


Iratze

by paperclipbitch



Series: femslash100 drabbles [51]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Community: femslash100, Community: femslash100100, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6252682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch/pseuds/paperclipbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabelle doesn’t move, and Clary loses consciousness watching light crackle behind her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iratze

**Author's Note:**

> Written for challenge #486 - _unconditional_ at **femslash100** , and for prompt 271. _trust_ for my Clary/Izzy table over at **femslash100100**.

“You should go,” Clary says thickly; she can taste blood, Isabelle’s hands are sticky everywhere they touch her.

“Shhh,” Isabelle responds, fierce not soothing, “I’m not going anywhere.”

There are demons and blades everywhere, and she pushes ineffectually at Isabelle, trying to tell her to run while there’s still time. 

Isabelle doesn’t move, and Clary loses consciousness watching light crackle behind her.

When she wakes up in the Institute, her head hurts and there’s an _iratze_ rune burning on her arm and Isabelle is sitting on her bed, looking exhausted, smiling anyway. 

“There you are,” she says, steady, like Clary’s last coherent memories don’t involve thinking she was going to die and get Isabelle killed too, like she wasn’t bleeding like she was getting paid for it.

“How long have I been out?” Clary asks. Her voice scrapes in her throat, words thudding against her skull.

“A while,” Isabelle allows, with a tip of her head. “The others will be glad you’re okay; they wanted to stay too, but someone had to get some sleep.”

“You didn’t know when I’d wake up,” Clary points out.

“I always have faith in you,” Isabelle replies, straightforward as she always is, and Clary shifts, ignoring the pain, until she can curl their fingers together. Isabelle kisses Clary’s raw knuckles, touches her hair briefly. “Now, get some rest.”

“You too,” Clary responds, sinks back into the sheets, wishing she could draw Isabelle with her. The last thing she sees this time is Isabelle’s smile.


End file.
